The Twin Contract (The Contract Series Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Birch's Faith

  D'Reaper's Destiny

  Sara's Kaos

  Naktmerie's Monster

  About Author

  The Twin Contract

  Book One in The Contract Series

  CeeRee Fields

  The Twin Contract

  CeeRee Fields

  The Twin Contract © 2019 CeeRee Fields

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, situations and incidents are the product of the author's imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

  Warning

  This story is intended for adults, 18+. Characters portrayed are 18 or older.

  Blurb

  A forced impersonation, a binding contract, and a cop she would give up everything for.

  Brianna Spencer has never been the favored daughter. That place has always been reserved for her identical twin sister, Briony. Briony crushes anyone that stands between her and her wants. Until the fateful night, she sneaks out to a party and disappears from her doting parents' lives. Thus, Brianna's plans for a quiet life are thrown into chaos as she is coerced to pay the price for her sister's selfishness.

  For ten years, Brianna has been forced to assume her socialite sister's identity. Now, at age twenty-seven, Brianna begins to wonder if she will ever break free of her sister's identity and live out her own dreams.

  Jackson McCord loathes liars. Raised by parents who conned anyone and everyone, Jackson could spin a lie and have the person swear it was the truth. Until his parents were arrested when he was twelve, and a cop saved him. A man he learned to respect and who taught him that dishonesty has consequences. Then he meets Brianna Spencer, a woman he never expected to fall for and one whose entire existence is a lie.

  One twin dead. One twin sacrificed for her family's sanity. And a man who pierces the veil of lies and sees the true heart of the living twin. Can Jackson pull her from the mire of deception? Or will Brianna remain in her dead sister's shadow?

  Dedication

  "Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go according to any rules. They are not like aches or wounds; they are more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there is not enough material."

  ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Acknowledgment

  A big thanks to Amber Daulton and Daryl Devoré for helping me with my first foray into the Contemporary Romance genre by giving me so many fantastic suggestions. And for encouraging me when I wanted to throw in the towel.

  I also want to thank my mom for listening to me ramble about the characters while I sorted out some of the plot lines.

  I couldn't have done this without you all!

  Prologue

  Brianna Spencer knew her twin would sneak out, no matter what their parents said. Of course, Briony was going. It was her boyfriend's eighteenth birthday party. It didn't matter to Briony that they were grounded for her stunt last weekend.

  How Briony thought she could get away with chartering a private plane to Vegas at seventeen was beyond Brianna. Especially since Briony invited her big-mouthed boyfriend and friends. And even though Brianna was not involved in any of it, she had still been grounded. Not that she left the house much, anyway.

  Hearing laughter coming from her sister's room, Brianna stepped across the hall and stood in her sister's doorway, shocked to hear Briony's plans to sneak out. As if they weren't in enough trouble.

  "Hey, sister," Briony said in a silky voice that sounded as if she were welcoming Brianna. But Brianna knew better than to fall for Briony's friendly façade. "You decided finally to take that stick out of your ass and join the cool kids?"

  Brianna kept the snarl from passing her lips. Through clenched teeth, she tried to ignore the butter-wouldn't-melt-in her mouth look because Brianna knew her sister was as devious as they came. "I thought I'd try to talk some sense into you. Mom and Dad will freak if they catch you."

  "Oh, and you'll tell them as soon as they get back from the Halloween party."

  Brianna swallowed her sarcastic reply. Like her parents would come back sober after one of the biggest bashes of the year. Especially this one. Their friends came in from all over the world to attend the masked ball. Which meant they might not even come home at all tonight.

  "You know I won't." Brianna had never told on her sister.

  Even if she had, her parents were liable to punish her for it, never Briony. Briony and their parents were peas in a snuggled pod. Brianna was the odd one out. She was the responsible one. The one who actually wanted to work. Not only work but work with animals.

  Hard hands tipped in vibrant red, so like the darkest blood her sister drew with her sharp tongue, slammed on either side of the Briony's door frame barring Brianna from entering the room. "Get lost, loser. How we can be identical but so different is beyond me. I'm going, and you better not say a fucking word." Briony growled. Her blue eyes held a feral light of absolute hatred.

  It was nothing new. Brianna knew her sister hated her. She felt the same some days, but tonight she wanted her sister to stay in. "We're on lock-down, Briony. How are you even leaving? All the alarms on the cars are set with a new code, security is on the lookout to make sure we don't leave—"

  "Don't worry, sister dear. I have my ways." With that, Briony slammed the door in Brianna's face. The lock snicked, barring Brianna from rushing the room to stop her sister.

  Every instinct she possessed told her to call their parents. Halloween wasn't the best time for Briony to be out, even if she was with friends. But it was more. Brianna's stomach bubbled with dread, and an icy foreboding slid into her veins. She felt to the depth of her being that if her sister left the sanctuary of their home, Brianna would never see her again.

  Brianna raced to the nearest phone, her cell confiscated with the whole lock-down situation. Picking up the receiver, she howled in frustration.

  The line was dead.

  Chapter One

  Ten Years Later

  Jackson McCord pulled his Crown Vic between the two stone columns of the driveway. Trees ranging from the deepest greens of the junipers to the silver-green oaks lined the picturesque. Medium-sized rocks surrounded a small pond sparkled behind thick bushes in full bloom.

  Everything spoke of class, elegance, and wealth. No gaudy pinks or purples app
eared anywhere in the landscape, only the softest of pastels and purest white dared bloom in this environment.

  Rich people. It had to be rich people.

  Hoping he had not taken a wrong turn, Jackson exhaled in relief when he finally spotted the plantation-style home set in the middle of a lush green lawn. Ivy crept up one side as if it were an old English manor, even though they were in the middle of Alabama.

  Before he could park and get directions, a man jogged to Jackson's window. The attendant wore a red vest with a matching bow tie paired with a white button-down and a pair of black dress pants. A look of distaste twisted the man's face as his gaze swept over Jackson's beat-up vehicle. "Are you here for the Garden Society tea, sir?"

  "No." Jackson flashed his badge. "I'm looking for the Spencer residence."

  Shock widened the man's eyes before a professional blankness smoothed it over. "You found it. Pull around to the side. I'll alert Ms. Williams to meet you. It's the first turn on the right."

  He was proud that he didn't flinch or turn the car around and leave.

  Instead, Jackson tipped his chin and shifted his car into drive to follow a paved path. He bet the second he pulled away the valet would spread the word to anyone who would listen that a deputy was here for the Spencers.

  Wonder how the rich and famous of Alabama will explain a visit from a cop?

  As far as he knew, there had never been any calls to this place.

  Not his problem. He focused on the gorgeous landscape, watching for the turnoff the valet mentioned. The setting brought back painful memories—memories Jackson thought buried long ago with his best friend's father.

  Scenes from the past slipped into his head no matter how he struggled to keep them out. The murder happened on a sunny spring day. Jackson had visited Rafe on a whim, sneaking out of his house so they could explore the newly installed tree house Rafe's father had purchased. Jackson, known then as Beau Gregson, had left the treehouse to use the bathroom only to hear raised voices. One sounded eerily like his mother. Worried she was going to get him banned from Rafe's house he raced to the library to explain his case only to see his father shoot Rafe's father. Then Jackson's parents had snatched something from the desk before hurrying out of the office. Jackson later learned the item was a banknote for a fake investment; one Rafe's father was backing out of and taking all the other investors with them.

  There had been so much blood when Jackson went to help the man. It had also been the last straw; though he was only twelve, he knew what his parents did was wrong. He had always been terrified they would kill him. It had been a threat they had wielded as sharply edged as the words that cut him deeper than any knife. When the police arrived, Jackson told them everything.

  It was the hardest thing he had ever done. He had lost his parents that day. Luckily, Rafe hadn't blamed Jackson for his father's death, and it had taken time to rebuild their friendship.

  Forcing the memories back into their box, he dragged himself back to the present. Sweat slicked his back, and his stomach churned. It took everything in him to clamp down on his urge to flee. He refused to be a coward. And him, better than anyone else in the department, was best equipped to sympathize with a death in the family. Most of the other deputies had never dealt with a murderer or a serial killer. Coming from Chicago, Jackson had dealt with both, and though he hated giving death notifications, he had more experience with that as well.

  Manicured Japanese Box hedges flowed across the front of the house, guiding him further down the paved drive until he came to a slight fork in the drive. The main stretch curved to the left and back to the main road while the turnoff carried him around to the other side of the intimidating structure. Every inch of this place reminded him of the other opulent homes and lawns his parents had taken him to for one of their many grifts.

  Spotting the parking area to the right, he swung the steering wheel with the heel of his hand into the lot and parked. After taking the file and his badge, he stepped from the car. This deep in the south, everyone moved at their own pace, which most times were unhurried and languid. Especially in the spring with the humidity hanging like a cloak around them. Even the breeze was slow-moving as if it couldn't be bothered to shift the overly warm air beyond a few feet. Jackson knew come summer he would wish for the small puffs of breeze spring provided.

  He could handle this piece of the job. Hell, he had been doing this job longer than he had been conning with his parents.

  Settled in his skin again, Jackson took in the small parking area in a glance. Rusted hatchbacks, older model sedans, and sedate van were clustered together.

  That damned attendant sent me to the staff parking. Someone better be coming to get me, or I'll haul his ass in for obstruction.

  Just as Jackson opened his car door to take off, a bustling woman in a pressed black dress, her dark hair pulled into a severe bun at the nape of her neck, hurried to his side. She moved efficiently.

  How she could have so much energy and not be a sweaty, gasping mess was beyond even Jackson's detective skills. Sweat had already gathered at his pits after only a few seconds out of his car's air conditioning. Chicago had not prepared him for this kind of heat. Luckily, his blazer hid the incriminating evidence.

  "Mr. McCord?" the woman asked, her lips twisted in disdain.

  "Deputy, ma'am. And you're Ms. Williams?" He passed her his badge.

  "I am," came the clipped reply.

  Her dark brown eyes scrutinized the badge, then him for what felt like an eternity, until she finally passed it back to him. Motion for him to follow her as if he were the one that kept her waiting, she swept ahead of him. Waiters and waitress scattered as she cut through the kitchen and wove deeper into the house.

  It was a novelty. Most were either intimidated by his six-foot-four heavily muscled frame, his badge, or his perpetual frown. Few had treated him as an annoyance.

  "You can wait here while I get Mrs. Spencer. Would you like tea or water?" she asked as politeness dictated.

  "No, ma'am."

  "Very well."

  He looked around the posh library. Deep wine-colored armchairs faced a large desk with an old-world globe made from gold filigree and set on a wooden pedestal stood in the corner to the right. Two windows behind the desk allowed the sunlight to stream in, brightening the room.

  Dark wood floors matched the floor-to-ceiling shelves that housed leather-bound books. Even the room smelled expensive, like leather, with an undertone of tobacco. If his parents were standing in his place, they'd be salivating. Their little con-artists' hearts would be beating with lust at separating this family from any money and items they could get their greedy hands on.

  A throat cleared behind him. "Mr. McCord?"

  "Deputy McCord, ma'am. Are you Mrs. Bianca Spencer?"

  The woman in front of him looked to be in her early fifties. Ash-blonde hair fell in a perfect curve to her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face that held few wrinkles. She was dressed in a pale green silk sheath topped with a darker green tunic jacket. He knew from his parents' many teachings that the dress would have a designer label. And if the wife came from the elite, the dress would be custom-tailored for her alone. This class of people had been his parents' bread and butter.

  The silence between them stretched. Jackson had played many a power game. With his parents when they forced him to take part in their cons, and later with gangbangers and killers when he worked Chicago's streets. He wondered how long the woman would last. Because between the two of them, she would be the first to break.

  Finally, she released an annoyed huff. "Obviously, I'm Bianca Spencer. As if my staff are incompetent."

  The as you are apparently was more than implied. Jackson allowed the insult to pass over him since he was there to impart the harshest news a parent would ever hear.

  She waved toward an armchair, moving ahead of him to take the other. The plush rug muffled her footsteps as she crossed the room and perched on the edge of the leather chair.<
br />
  Taking the hint, Jackson sat at an angle to face her. "Is there someone else that can be here with you?"

  She waved a hand between them. "I'm perfectly capable of hearing whatever you have to say without being coddled, Deputy McCord. Now, tell me what you need because I have guests to attend to."

  He cleared his throat. This was the hard part. "I'm sure you've followed the news about the serial killer?"

  "Of course. Dreadfu … Wait, is this about Brianna?" Her blue eyes clouded.

  As he waited for the tears, his mind latched onto the name she uttered. Brianna? The victim listed on his paperwork was Briony.

  When none fell, he continued, "No, this is about Briony Spencer. I'm sorry to say; she's in our—"

  "Impossible." The clouds shifted from her eyes as they brightened. "Briony is in the back garden. It must be Brianna you're talking about."

  Confused, he scanned the room for help before remembering he didn't have backup. He knew Briony and Brianna were twins.

  Could there have been a mixup? It was a possibility as identical twins had identical DNA. He patted her hand in comfort, forgetting himself for a moment, only to have her quickly jerk away from his touch.

  At a loss, he decided to give her the information she would need for closure and deal with who the exact victim was when he returned to the office. Going with the daughter she claimed as being the victim, he forged ahead. "Brianna was found among the dead. I am so sorry for your loss."

  "Well, it wasn't anything we didn't already expect. She's been missing for years now." A haughty sniff as if having this conversation was tedious. "Our family came to terms with her being gone."

  Jackson was an expert at masking his emotions. Especially revulsion.